


Cosmic Irony

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, First Times, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 05:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jim and Blair find luuuuv (or start to) at the Star of the American Road.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cosmic Irony

## Cosmic Irony

by Meredith Lynne

Author's webpage: <http://www2.netdoor.com/~meredith/merry/merry.htm>

* * *

"Jim...air?...." 

The words were lost in the din of sirens and shouting, just the barest exhalation hissed out over clenched teeth. It was all Blair could manage, but he knew it would be enough; the super-sensitive ear he was aiming for was presently less than an inch from his lips. [Gotta be more careful what I wish for,] he reflected, trying ineffectually to create a little space betwen his rib cage and that of his partner. [You there, God? This is _SO_ not what I had in mind...] 

As his partner's not-inconsiderable bulk flattened him into a bedraggled Guide pancake against the pavement, Blair fought for another breath, renewing his efforts to free himself. "C'mon, Jim," he gasped, trying to wriggle out from under his partner. "Asphyxiating Guide here...Jim?" [Oh man...if he zones I'm gonna die of oxygen deprivation in the parking lot of a Texaco station...next time just let 'em shoot me...] "JIM!" 

He'd been knocked out of the path of the bullet, which surely had the word 'Sandburg' etched on the casing, by about two hundred pounds of pissed-off Sentinel. Blair was fairly sure Jim had managed to take out the gunman on his way down; the shooting had stopped, and he could hear Simon shouting at somebody. Both were very good signs that the firefight was over, but with Blair conscious and unharmed it paid to be cautious. Lately, a shootout just didn't seem complete until he'd spent ten minutes on oxygen in the back of a speeding ambulance. He was on a first name basis with half the EMT's in Cascade; the other half thought his name was "Chief." 

[How do they always manage to hit _me_?] he wondered, suddenly irritated. [Man, it's like they don't even have to aim....discharge a firearm in the State of Washington and the bullet will somehow end up lodged in whatever part of Blair Sandburg can least afford it...] 

Blair was fully geared up, prepared to spend the last moments of his life griping to himself about the careless whims of fate, when the voice he'd been waiting for interrupted the whining of his inner child. "You okay, Chief?" 

Suddenly the weight lifted, moved to the side, and azure eyes gazed down into his own, warm concern replacing the emptiness of a full-scale zone-out. Blair was unprepared; with no time to steel himself, the sheer force of personality in those eyes struck a chord deep within him, resonating with unwelcome desire. Blair swallowed hard and cut his glance to the side, biting down hard on his lower lip to replace passion with pain. [The eyes are lethal, don't look at the eyes...look someplace else. Anyplace else. Where's Simon?] He conjured an image of the dark-skinned, hot-tempered Captain of Major Crimes, easily fitting it with a familiar expression of utter and absolute disgust, and sighed with relief as his body's treachery began to subside. Gulping air, Blair tried to rise, a hiss of pain Jim's only answer for a moment as the younger man steadied himself. 

"Still with me, Sandburg? He missed you by a mile." 

"Yeah, I know," Blair said through clenched teeth, more frustrated than hurt. "You didn't, though. You were right on target." 

Jim rolled his eyes. "So you got tackled; it's not the first time. You'd rather I let you take a bullet?" he demanded. 

"Gee, Jim...I don't know...let me think it over while the paramedics re-inflate my lungs." 

"You're a riot, Sandburg. You're killing me here." The words were light-hearted, but the Sentinel's touch was gentle, solicitous as he helped Blair to his feet. 

Enhanced senses swept over him, cataloguing responses, heart rate, breathing... [I am _so_ not turned on right now,] Blair lectured himself sternly, ignoring the liquid heat that flooded him under his partner's full attention, praying to nameless gods that he wouldn't blush. [This is simply an adrenaline high brought about by exposure to events of extreme danger and intensity. A completely understandable, well-documented reaction to a crisis situation.] He took a few deep, cleansing breaths, reigning in excitement. If he could convince himself, even for just a moment, chances were he could convince Jim, too. 

[Showtime.] He ran a hand quickly through his long dark curls, sweeping them into some semblence of order, then turned a patented Sandburg Sincerity Special on his friend. Blair's deep blue eyes went wide and bright with carefully constructed innocence, and he bounced a little, just for effect, as he grinned at his partner. "That was _way_ cool, Jim. One for the home team!" 

Irritation sparked across the Sentinel's features as he frowned down at his Guide. "Some lunatic nearly ventilates your chest, and you think it's _cool_?" 

Blair hid a smile and leaned back against the truck, recognizing the prologue of Jim's 'Risk your life again and I'll shoot you myself' rant with barely concealed relief. He was fairly sure that the rant he _should_ be getting, the 'No entertaining lustful thoughts about the Blessed Protector' rant, would have ended with an eviction at best, and quite likely a murder as well. The kind of slow, messy, painful murder they probably taught in Covert Operations. [They'd never find my body...if they even looked...yeah, I'd say we can put off that discussion, like, _forever_.] 

Blair let the lecture flow over him, careful to nod contritely at appropriate intervals, and tried to review his actions objectively. It was true, he'd violated one of the official Job Rules by following Jim into action and then proceeding to act as if he had a mind of his own. Jim came down against that sort of thing with frightening consistency. Never mind that if Blair hadn't stood up to yell, a couple of kids on bikes would have been in the line of fire instead of himself. Everybody else had been too tightly focused on the gunman inside the store to notice the curiosity-seeking preteens cruising toward the parking lot. Besides, it had worked out fine; Blair saved the kids, Jim saved Blair, and evil no longer haunted the Star of the American Road. It was like poetry, the two of them moving in perfect cadence: Sentinel and Guide, protecting the Tribe. 

"Well?" 

The demanding note in Jim's voice jolted Blair out of neutral and into reverse, rewinding the conversation in his head. Some sort of response was expected... required even...but he wasn't able to track the question. "Uh...yeah, Jim...I'm really sorry," he offered, figuring the odds were fifty-fifty at least. 

"You weren't listening to a word I said, were you, Sandburg?" Jim demanded. 

A part of Blair watched with an abject -- but not entirely unfamiliar \-- sense of horror as his mouth disconnected from his brain and went into overdrive. "Of course I was! I always listen to you, Jim. It was...uh...really eloquent. You must've practiced that one in front of a mirror; you really outdid yourself, man. We'll have your final score as soon as we get numbers back from the German judges -- who probably heard you just fine, by the way--" [Oh, god...what am I doing? He's going to kill me, and I'm going to deserve it....] 

"Sandburg." Jim's voice was soft, but dark with danger, cutting through Blair's monologue and shutting it down. 

"Yes, Jim?" Blair's voice was as low and miserable as he felt. [Way to go, man, you just shot _yourself_ in the heart. Here it comes...you want the loft key, Jim? Want your spare bedroom back? Want to rethink this whole Guide thing, this Observer thing, maybe this friendship thing, too?] 

Blair closed his eyes, hiding the panic rising within them, and waited for the explosion. 

* * *

Jim Ellison sighed, and looked away from the pathetic creature slumped against his truck. He could feel that muscle in his jaw starting to twitch again, an unfriendly little tic that boded well for no one. He clamped down on it, which of course just made it worse, and wondered what he'd ever done in his life to deserve a partner like Blair Sandburg. 

The man had no concept of personal safety and no compunctions about disobeying orders. He was afraid of heights, but standing up in a rain of bullets didn't give him the slightest twinge of concern. As a scientist he dedicated himself to the search for truth, but he lied with an ease, skill, and frequency that raised the practice to an art form. He could be as kind and understanding as Jim had ever known any man to be, and a moment later say something so incredibly sharp it left you bleeding. 

And he could make you want to kill him, then look at you with a depth of misery that shattered your heart. 

Jim caved in under that look every time; he knew it, and Blair knew it. And lately, the kid had started doing this new thing, this closing-his-eyes thing, to eliminate the unfair advantage. 

Unfortunately, it had exactly the opposite effect. Every damn time, Jim was moved by the sacrifice, by Blair's willingness to give up what was essentially his only weapon for the sake of fairness. It was...honorable, in a crazy, Sandburg kind of way; something Jim hadn't expected at the beginning, but had come to understand and appreciate. 

The eyes were almost easier to take. 

With a sigh, Jim reached for Blair's shoulder and squeezed it gently, his own eyes softening when his partner looked up at him with barely concealed hope. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt able to refuse this man anything, the last time he wouldn't have sold his soul to erase his pain. Often, lately, he wondered if there had ever _been_ such a time. 

So Jim smiled, just a little, not ready to let Sandburg completely off the hook but not wanting him to suffer anymore, either. "Come on, Chief," he said, amused resignation lightening his voice. "Get in the truck; I promise not to bite your head off." 

The smile that broke through Blair's worry was nearly blinding, yet another look Jim couldn't resist. "Thanks, Jim," the kid said quietly. 

Jim smiled back, and gave his Guide's shoulder a gentle shove. "Just put in a good word with those judges, Sandburg, and we'll call it even." 

Blair's laughter, mingled with his, was a sweet, comfortable sound. 

* * *

Feedback welcome at Meredith@netdoor.com 


End file.
